Tomorrow is a Long Time
by subversivegrrl
Summary: Post 4x08, "Too Far Gone" - the reunion
1. Chapter 1

Carol crouched by the fire and wrapped a rag around the handle of the old aluminum coffee pot, pulling it out and setting it on a flat stone to let the grounds settle. There were few enough comforts out on the road, and this was one she aimed to keep in her life, as long and as often as they could find a supply of coffee. She wasn't yet reduced to smashing whole beans between two rocks, but she had already resolved that if that's what it took, she'd do it.

That first pot of the morning was always Carol's to share out. It was the one thing she did that she had to admit was probably ungenerous, even selfish, but she did the work, and she spread the wealth as she saw fit. The day's second pot was up for grabs, assuming someone put in the effort to make it. She no longer felt like she always needed to be the one to step in and see that such things got done.

A bleary-eyed Maggie staggered out of the tent she shared with Beth, Sasha, and Bob, and wandered closer to the fire, holding out her mug. "Help me, Angel Carol, you're my only hope." Carol smiled at the joke - a weak one, but the mere fact that anyone felt like joking was an improvement. The six of them had been reunited for just over a week, and she knew Maggie in particular was struggling. Her red-rimmed eyes and the dark circles beneath them spoke to how little the young woman had been sleeping.

She moved over to share her fireside log with Maggie, and filled her mug with the thick, murky "cowboy coffee" they'd learned to brew during the first time they'd been on the run, before the prison. Strong and black, with nothing to knock back its bitterness, it did the trick after a long night interrupted by watch shifts, or spent simply staring into the dark, waiting for elusive sleep.

"I don't think I've said, Carol, but I'm grateful to have you with us." Maggie's face, normally so vibrant, was pale and pensive. Not only had she been forced to watch as her father was brutally murdered, but the prison bus, with Glenn on board, hadn't shown up at the first bug-out point as planned, and it was anyone's guess what had happened to its passengers. Carol's heart ached for the girl, knowing that question might never be answered. On top of those losses, Maggie had her younger sister to contend with; Beth had been virtually silent since her father's death, and Carol had her doubts about whether the girl would ever come back from the trauma.

Maggie leaned over to rest her head affectionately on Carol's shoulder. "Did you know, Daddy used to say you were the strongest one of all of us? He told me, 'There are hidden depths to that woman, Maggie; you'd do well to learn from her example.'" Her spot-on impression of Hershel's tone of voice nearly brought Carol to tears. "He really admired you. I'm afraid I didn't listen to him like I should: always so caught up in Glenn, I suppose. I should have paid more attention to what was goin' on, the way you always do. Maybe I would have been able to do somethin' before Rick…"

"Don't, Maggie," Carol said firmly. "It's my own fault I got pushed out. I'd thought after all that time I'd gotten past feeling like I had no one to rely on but myself, but when it came down to it, I went right back to acting like I had to go it alone. Poor Daryl was so pissed at me when he found me, I thought for a day or so he wasn't ever going to speak to me again."

"But he did." A soft smile lit Maggie's face for just a moment. "It makes me so happy to watch the two of you together. Takes my mind off of missin' Glenn, and how bad I feel."

Carol bowed her head, not wanting to add to that misery by flaunting her joy, but she couldn't help the light that she knew came into her eyes when her thoughts turned to Daryl.

As if the power of suggestion summoned him, she heard the zipper on their tent, and turned to get a glimpse of Daryl's shaggy head as he emerged into the sunlight.

"Shouldn'ta let me sleep so long," he grumbled. "Got no one out here to keep watch for trouble."

"The sun's well up, Daryl, and there are four perfectly good eyes between the two of us," Carol said, bristling a little at the implication they couldn't look out for themselves. "Despite what you may think of your skills, our four trump your two any day of the week."

"And twice on Sundays," Maggie put in, a little of her former sass in her voice.

He gave the two of them a sour look and disappeared toward the nearby line of trees that served as their latrine.

"Ain't he just a ray of sunshine," Maggie said, watching him go.

Carol nodded ruefully. "He's short on sleep, like the rest of us. Not that he could ever really be considered Mister Sweetness-and-Light, even on his best days."

"So much better than he used to be, though. Back before we left home, I never could understand what you saw in him." Carol's eyes widened in surprise. "Home" to Maggie meant the farm, and even Carol herself hadn't been clear on her feelings about Daryl that far back. "He was so prickly all the time, kinda dangerous even, and you never showed any fear of him, just made him sit down and eat, and told him off when he was bein' an ass - it was a wonder to see. You know, you're the only reason he's still here with us today. I mean, besides the two of you bein'... whatever, now." Maggie made a little gesture of uncertainty, and Carol laughed softly, having no better way to describe it herself. "If you hadn't made him feel like he was a part of something, I think he would have left us. He only stayed for you."

_Perhaps he had, even then_, Carol thought. And perhaps if he hadn't stayed, she never would have made it this far herself. She busied her hands with the coffee pot again, adding to what was left in her cup in order to warm it up for Daryl. Whatever confluence of events and circumstances had drawn them together all that time ago - what seemed like a lifetime, but had to be fewer than eighteen months - their recent separation had been the catalyst that finally broke down the walls that had remained between them, and she counted herself lucky.

* * *

_Eight days earlier -_

Carol gently closed the door of the station wagon and crossed the concrete apron in front of the garage, headed for the side entrance. Fortunately the run she'd just taken to check out a nearby gas station had been brief; otherwise the waste of fuel on another fruitless trip would have irritated her to no end. As it was, it only added to her growing sense of dread. The few supplies Rick had left her with were quickly dwindling, and she was going to be forced to strike out beyond the radius that had until now allowed her to keep coming back to this little bolthole she'd set up a day or so after he had exiled her. She'd intentionally kept fairly close to her starting point for the time being, believing that if anyone came looking for her, they had a better chance of success if she didn't get too far away. That hope had faded as the days passed, and by now she'd reached the conclusion that, whatever her future was going to be, she was going to have to go it alone.

The sound of an approaching engine startled her into motion, and she dove for the far side of the car, realizing that she probably couldn't get into the breezeway without being seen. With any luck, the oncoming vehicle hadn't spotted her, and her momentary inattention hadn't compromised her carefully-held safety.

As the noise got closer, she realized it was the throaty rumble of a motorcycle, and she strained to catch the subtleties of the engine's rhythm, suddenly hoping it would resolve into the familiar roar of Daryl's Triumph.

She sank back against the side of the car and breathed a sigh of combined disappointment and relief as the motorcycle passed the entrance to the _cul de sac_, and the sound faded. Not him, and no matter what Rick had said about her finding a new group to join, she wasn't ready to risk meeting up with another pack of vultures like the Governor and his henchmen.

Before she could rise from the concrete, the bike returned, blasting up the street and halting only a few car lengths away. When the engine shut off, she crawled as noiselessly as she could to crouch with her back against the front bumper of the wagon, freeing her gun from her belt and praying she wouldn't have to use it. She had little enough ammunition, and wasting one or more bullets to kill a human predator and risk attracting a pack of walkers was the last thing she wanted to be forced into.

The scuff of boots on the drive made her heart leap into her throat, and she flipped the safety off, holding the gun down by her side, keeping out of sight. Breathing shallowly, she eased up onto one knee, peeking over the edge of the hood and sighting through the windshield as a man came into view. Her gun dropped to the concrete with a metallic scrape, and the man ducked low and swept his crossbow onto his shoulder, the bolt pointed straight at her hiding place.

"Don't shoot, Daryl," she called softly, "it's only me."


	2. Chapter 2

"Carol?" She rose from behind the car into his line of sight. Daryl stood frozen, his body rigid with surprise and tension. She splayed her hands, holding them out from her body to show she wasn't carrying a weapon, and moved out onto the open concrete. His face was nearly white beneath all the dirt.

She wanted nothing more at that moment than to run to him and throw her arms around him, but something in his posture told her to hold back. "Daryl, I'm okay -" but he interrupted her.

"What the fuck are you doin', tryin' to get yourself killed? I coulda been anybody." He took two steps toward her and stopped. "Ain't safe out here. We already lost so many, you can't be that stupid. Governor could have more people we don't know about. Where's your weapons? Ain't you learned better than that?"

She tried again, "Look, I'm just fine…" and he threw a hand up, cutting her off.

"Shut it."

He opened his mouth, and a torrent of words poured out of him, more than she'd ever heard him say in one go, a nearly incoherent stream of anguish. Whatever had happened, all she could do was remain as still as possible and ride out the storm of Daryl's turmoil.

Out of his ramblings she picked up some threads of meaning - the prison once again attacked by the Governor, walkers, everyone scattered to the winds. He had come away from there with only Beth, and the girl wasn't doing well, apparently having retreated back into her mind as she had done once before, after Shane had forced the revelation of what her family had been concealing in their barn.

They were both so distracted they nearly missed the sound of lurching steps until three walkers stumbled around the side of the house. Daryl whirled and fired off a bolt, embedding it in the skull of the closest. Carol dragged her knife free of its sheath and waited until he stepped clear, then drove her foot into the knee of the one closest to her, toppling it to the ground. Daryl raised the empty crossbow and smashed in the head of the one still upright, and Carol went in low to stab her knife up under the jaw of the one at her feet.

"Inside," Carol said, breathless, and Daryl nodded and followed her into the house.

"Get your things, we're leavin'." He grabbed her arm and half-pushed her toward the pile of bedding on the couch, moving to scoop up the few items she'd left on the table. Most of her supplies were still in the car, in the event she'd need to beat a hasty retreat.

"Wait just a minute, Daryl. _Where_ are we going? Back to the prison?"

"Shit, ain't you been listenin'? Ain't no prison _left_, Carol, what the hell d'you think I been tryin' to tell you?"

_The prison was gone?_ Somehow that detail had failed to get through to her. She had been too caught up in watching him, trying to read what lay behind his agitation, bemused by the gift of simply having him within reach again.

"I'm sorry, Daryl." _You weren't making much sense._ "I - I think I just wasn't able to focus on everything you were saying. Can we sit down for a minute, and you can tell me again what's happened?"

"No time for that. I gotta get these supplies back to camp. Bob's got a gunshot wound that ain't gettin' any better, and I only came out to try to find some antiseptic, antibiotics, stuff like that. Got some peroxide and rubbing alcohol, and a bottle of pills that says it's supposed to reduce fevers, but that's all. Maybe you can figure out what to do for him." The urgency of the need focused him, brought him back to something like normal. It helped Carol, too, damping the siren that wailed in her brain, _no home. Her family, missing or dead. The children._ It all felt sickeningly familiar.

But Daryl was beside her, and there was work to be done. She'd figure out the rest of it as they went. She grabbed her bag and began stuffing her few belongings inside.

* * *

Daryl led the way, back toward wherever it was he'd left the others. Sasha, Bob, Maggie and Beth - _so few_, Carol thought, not knowing whether she should grieve for the rest, or hold out some hope. She kept the station wagon close behind him, trusting him to get them both to their destination.

Some miles down the road, she spotted a condominium development, and flashed her lights to signal him. He immediately pulled over and waited for her to come alongside.

"We should check out these places for meds for Bob," she said, and he swung an arm to motion her ahead and waited for her to pull into the drive before guiding the bike in behind her.

"Why here?" he asked, curiously, as she got out of the car.

"Single story, plus that silly 'Grandma' thing on the door - suggests older folks, and the elderly tend to stock up and hoard medication, even after they quit taking it." She checked her weapons and moved toward the front door of the first unit, not even needing to look to know he was right behind her.

"Smart," he said, and Carol felt a flush of pride.

"We'll see. Just thinking my way through things, like you taught me," she said, glancing over at him. Lessons like that had kept her safe through the days on her own. She'd have to remember to thank him, once they got where they were going.

The door gave easily to Daryl's kick, and a bolt from his crossbow downed the first of the condo's former residents. As he reloaded, Carol stepped to the side and slammed her knife solidly into the eye socket of a second. He nodded in approval as she wrestled the knife free, and said, "You never needed my help with the thinkin' part. That's all you."

They swept the rest of the place and found it clear, and Carol headed into the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. Lipitor, a vial of tiny nitroglycerin pills - she took the latter and left the former, figuring high cholesterol was the least of their problems these days, but the heart medication might do someone some good down the road and would take barely any room. Finally a bottle labeled "Keflex" came to hand, and she smiled and called to Daryl, "Got it." She went into the bedroom and checked the bottles on the bedside table, but none of the names was familiar to her, and she didn't want to drag along anything more than was going to be useful.

Daryl had scoured the kitchen and come up with some canned goods and a couple of unopened boxes of cereal.

"Don't suppose you found a bottle of milk to go with that?" Carol said, teasingly. "I never could stand to eat my cereal without milk." Her attempt at humor seemed to pass right by him.

"Time to go," he said brusquely. "Don't wanna get caught out here after dark."

* * *

Once they got to the makeshift camp, Carol felt even more tension. Maggie obviously had been told something of what Rick had done, and why, and was distant and wary. Sasha hugged her, unexpectedly, and escorted her quickly to the tent where Bob lay flushed with fever, his eyes glazed.

The bullet had gone straight through the meat of his shoulder and missed the bone, which was lucky, but it had clipped a sizeable piece of flesh from him and would likely be a long time healing. They hadn't been able to keep it very clean, and it was obviously infected. Carol sniffed carefully at the wound, and was relieved when she didn't detect even a hint of the spoiled-meat smell of gangrene.

With Sasha assisting her, Carol flushed the site with peroxide and probed it for debris, and Bob's face was gray and drenched with sweat by the time she was satisfied. "What have we got to cover this?" she asked Sasha. The young woman handed her a torn length of a sheet, the remainder of which they had already used for dressings. They would need to do another run soon to find more materials for wound care if they were going to get him healthy again, Carol thought. Meanwhile she bound up the shoulder as best she could and dosed him heavily with the antibiotic and a couple of the fever reducers.

"You have no idea how happy I was to see you come in with Daryl," Sasha said. "I think we could have done this without you, once Daryl got back with what he found, but it makes me feel better to have someone here who has some idea what they're doing. Not to mention…" Her voice trailed off, as though she was hesitant to go further. "He's needed you here. It's been… hard on him."

"You mean Daryl?" Carol was mystified. Daryl was about as competent at dealing with crisis as anyone could be.

"He's been a mess, Carol. He's not talking to any of us any more than he absolutely has to, and I'm not even sure he's slept since we left the prison. It's like he thinks it's all on him to keep us alive, and he can't let his guard down for even a second. I don't think he really trusts me, and Maggie and Beth and Bob… well, I'm just saying it's good you're here. Maybe you can get him to at least let us take watch so he can get some sleep, before he passes out from exhaustion."

They sat with Bob for a while longer, until he fell into what seemed to be a restful sleep. "Thank you for telling me, Sasha," Carol said. "I'll see what I can do - although I'm not sure I'm the person he'll listen to right now."


	3. Chapter 3

Carol was impressed with how well the others had done for themselves, given the desperate straits in which they'd left the prison. Maggie and Sasha, fleeing with an injured Bob, had found an abandoned car along the way that had held two tents, one large and one small. For comfort as much as safety they had all bunked down in the larger, and the women had taken turns on watch and checking on Bob until they met up with Daryl and Beth a few days later. Beth had lapsed into silence at some point prior to that, and she remained mute, although she woke several times a night crying out from nightmares. They had managed to scavenge enough food to keep themselves going, but it was just subsisting, constantly on the move with no destination in mind, and they were all exhausted. They needed to find somewhere they could rest up and make plans. Didn't matter that they'd all been through it before - familiarity didn't make it any easier.

They'd found the field where they were currently camped two days - maybe less? it was hard to keep it straight - before Daryl encountered Carol. Although the only things to recommend it were a good source of water and an elevated view of the surrounding countryside, it was the best site they'd located so far, and with Bob's condition becoming more critical by the hour it had been the only rational decision to stop there for a while and give themselves an opportunity to regroup. They hoped the downtime might even help Beth, who ate and drank only when prompted, and otherwise slept, or stared at the tent walls, dry-eyed.

Maggie grimaced over the scant provisions they'd found on their way back. "Baked beans, pineapple tidbits, and shredded wheat. Practically gourmet," she commented morosely. "Better than going hungry, I guess." They had gathered around the small fire, with even Bob feeling well enough after a few hours sleep to join the rest to discuss plans.

Daryl took the spot next to Carol on the ground, but he didn't speak to her directly, and she thought he made a point of not looking at her, either. He'd settled her gear with his own in the smaller tent as if it were a foregone conclusion where she'd sleep - although in fairness it was the only free space, unless they disrupted the others - but thereafter seemed intent on avoiding her. She found herself tuning out much of the details of the conversation and just watching him, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

He was more twitchy than she'd seen him in months, maybe as much as a year. Maybe not since the farm, when she'd first begun her campaign to bring the skittish outsider into the fold, calming him with soft words and hot food. It had been quite a bit like taming a stray dog, now that she thought about it. She could always see the war within him - yearning to come closer, to accept the tiny bits of comfort she offered, and the next moment shying away from a soothing hand as if it held a club - it had nearly broken her to think what kind of life could have scarred his heart like that.

Over time he'd grown accustomed to her touches, her gentle teasing, never conducted in a way that might have left him open to ridicule; her persistence in seeing that he was well-fed and clothed, no matter how he might grumble and resist. In the process she had fallen deeply in love with the caring man beneath the hard-bitten mask, and it was painful for her to see that he might be slipping back into old patterns of keeping himself aloof from people who cared about him. _From her._

"You're quiet, Carol - anything you want to add to this?" Sasha wasn't unobservant; she knew damned well Carol had been lost in her thoughts and had no idea what had been said. She was tempted to try to play it off but, on second thought, she was too tired to maintain the pretense.

"Sorry, Sasha, I sort of drifted off." Carol shook off her funk and concentrated on the discussion at hand. "Well, at the risk of going over old territory - I think it's best if we can give Bob another day or two for the antibiotics to work. If we try to get back on the road before he's ready he might be risking a relapse, and I'd just as soon we not test that, if we have the luxury. As far as direction, I don't really have any strong opinions." They passed around the one map they'd come across, considered some possibilities - at the heart of it, though, they had to balance the need to get out of the area, away from the danger of any remnant of the Governor's "army," with the dwindling hope of yet finding more of the prison family. Ultimately they decided to give it one more day and reassess Bob's condition then. Beth would come out of her fugue, or not - they couldn't postpone indefinitely, waiting for her to come back to them.

The one concrete thing they accomplished was to convince Daryl to let Sasha take the first night watch, and Carol was set for second. It wasn't long after she had made up her bed in the tent that the zipper came down again and Daryl poked his head inside. "If this ain't okay with you, I can sleep out by the fire."

"Don't be ridiculous," Carol said, shaking her head in irritation. "Get in here, it'll be warmer for both of us." He crawled in and pulled his sleeping bag up around him, turning his back on her without a further word.

She sat for a while, her arms clasped around her knees, and waited to see if privacy would allow him to finally cough loose what was sticking in his throat. She listened to him breathing, knowing he was no closer to sleep than she was. "Daryl?"

His voice was grim. "Don't."

She sighed and laid down, turning on her side. "You can't avoid me forever. Whatever you're stewing over, it's going to have to come out sooner or later." He was silent, and eventually a fitful sleep fell over her, unsettled by fragments of dreams where she died in the bombardment of the prison, where he never found her and she wandered endlessly in a gray wasteland, where Sophia ran beside a reed-encircled pond and Daryl lay in the grass next to her, watching their girl play in the sunshine. She was grateful when Sasha woke her for her shift on guard.

Early the following morning, with the knowledge that they'd likely be moving on again the next day, Carol trailed out to the vantage point where he'd set up on watch. He turned toward her as she approached, but kept most of his focus on the field and the woods beyond.

She sat down on the ground a short distance from where he perched on an old stump. "You may not be ready to talk, Daryl, but you're going to have to listen.

"I'm worried about Maggie - about all of us, but her most of all, right now. She's not sleeping, and all of the life has gone right out of her. You and I both know how despair and exhaustion make people sloppy, and that puts everyone at risk. Beth is almost catatonic, and I haven't a clue what to do for her, and Bob won't be able to decently protect himself for at least another week. That leaves you and me and Sasha to keep us all alive. We're in real trouble here, and if you and I aren't communicating we don't stand a chance."

He stared off into the trees, no reaction but his stillness. She had a pretty good idea what was going on in his head, but it was only guesswork, and she'd just played her only card. She gave him a couple of minutes before deciding she'd done all she could for the moment, and stood to go back to the tents. She hadn't taken more than a few steps before he finally broke his silence.

"Wait, Carol," he said tiredly. "I ain't got the energy to do this right now, but you're right, we gotta figure things out, and it ain't like someone's gonna wave a fuckin' magic wand and fix it for us."

Unsure what direction he was taking, Carol asked, "Do you want me to go get Sasha? She's a big part of this, too."

"Not yet. You and me, we got some things to straighten out first." For the first time since they'd come back to the camp he looked straight at her, and Carol saw the stress and doubt in his face.

"I know you have questions, Daryl. Ask me." She came back to him and sat in the grass, waiting.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his face disclosing the apparent soreness and tension there. Carol ached to step up behind him and lay her hands on him, to massage away his discomfort, give him whatever small ease she could offer. He wouldn't welcome her touch, though, she thought, not now, maybe not ever.

Finally he broke the silence. "What I don't understand is, why'd you let him put it on you, when you ain't done nothin'? Did you think if you were gone they'd all stop lookin'?"

Carol felt every ounce of breath rush out of her. So many times she'd considered what he would and wouldn't think about what she'd done, but she'd never thought he would have completely rejected Rick's explanation. Deep down, she'd believed his loyalty to Rick would override whatever bond she had with him.

"Rick must have told you I confessed."

"Yeah, he said you told him you done it, and that you wasn't sorry. Think I _believed _that?" Daryl got a glint in his eye, almost amused. "Shit, Carol. You ain't got a murderous bone in you, and you couldn'ta hid it from me even if you tried. You'da been so torn up it would've been all over you. Got an idea why you took the blame, but outright murder? that ain't you."

"I don't understand" Since the previous day, she'd been gearing herself up for this discussion, how she'd expected it to go, and now she was adrift and confused. And, to her surprise, _furious._ "If you aren't angry about that, then what the _hell_ is up your ass so far you can't even talk to me?" All of her sleepless nights alone, wondering if she'd made the right choice in taking on the burden of someone else's guilt, she hadn't let herself give in to the despair she'd felt. Part of her relief at finding Daryl again was knowing if anyone would understand, it would be him, and now that she was with him, he could barely even meet her eyes. "God, is it that difficult just to _talk_ to me, Daryl?"

He jumped up and loomed over her. "I _can't_, okay? Too much ridin' on me stayin' focused. Can't be distracted, and you…" He stopped and shrugged, wearing his anxiety like a cloak. "Just can't. 'M glad you're here and safe, but I can't… let you get close. Too hard to keep it all straight."

Somewhere in her chest, Carol felt an opening door slam shut again. She blew out a breath and set her jaw against the pain, but held tight to the anger, letting it steel her spine. "How _nice_ for you, then, that you still have that choice. Me, I let you in a long time ago. Funny - I guess I've always found it somewhat of a comfort."

She got to her feet and turned back toward camp. "I'll have someone bring you some breakfast when it's ready."


	4. Chapter 4

When Carol got back to the tents, Maggie was awake and had started warming up the rest of the canned beans in their sole pan. "There's water in the jug, if you want to fix some of that mud you call coffee." Carol set about the task, and by the time it was ready, Sasha was up as well.

"I took a look at Bob's shoulder," Sasha said. "It looks like that dressing's going to need to be changed again soon."

Carol poured out the coffee, the three of them sharing their only two mugs. "Well, we used up the last of that sheet yesterday. We really need to find a supply of sterile dressings, or something else to use, and there's nothing left here that will work. I'm thinking someone might make a run back to those condos where Daryl and I found the antibiotics. We only went through the one unit, and there might be more supplies there we can use."

Maggie looked skeptical. "Do you think it's a good idea for Daryl to take off again right now? No offense to you or Sasha, I know we're all pretty good at takin' care of ourselves, but I'm not crazy about the thought of him leavin' us again so soon."

"No," Carol said smoothly. "Actually, Maggie, I was thinking you and I would go. I know where the place is, and Daryl and I didn't have much difficulty with walkers there - I think you and I would manage just fine. Plus I suspect we have some things we need to talk about before much longer, don't you?" Maggie narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

Sasha shook her head with a small smile. "I'd feel better if he were here to help keep Bob and Beth safe, but I'm not sure whether I want to be around when you propose that little outing to Daryl. He's not going to like it one bit."

"Good thing I don't answer to Daryl, then, isn't it?" Carol said brightly. "He's not the only one who's allowed to do what needs doing. He can't be everywhere at once, and he's going to have to get used to that. Now, if you wouldn't mind, would one of you take the rest of this coffee and some of those beans out to him? And no need to mention the run to him. I'll take care of that myself." She didn't miss the look that passed between the two women, but she didn't care to enlighten them about her quarrel with Daryl. They had enough to worry about without her spreading her ill-humor around.

As expected, Daryl blew up the moment he came in from watch and Carol announced that she and Maggie would be making a return trip to the condo development. "You ain't goin'," he growled, his tone intended to put an end to discussion.

"Excuse me, Daryl, but I wasn't asking your permission." Carol drew herself up to her full height and held his eyes. "We _need _to find more food, and some more materials to bandage Bob's shoulder, and you're needed here to keep him and Beth safe. Maggie and I will be fine. It's just a short trip, and you've seen for yourself that I can handle a few walkers." She smiled grimly at him, unwilling to give an inch on the matter. "You know it's a good plan - you just don't like it because it's not _your_ plan."

Daryl grabbed her by the elbow and hustled her a short distance away from the others. "What the fuck are you playin' at, here? You don't get the answer you like, so you gotta rub my nose in it?"

"Let go of me, Daryl," Carol said flatly, and he dropped her arm like she was on fire.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"Forget it," she interrupted. "Look, it's simple. We need more supplies. We know where we've got a good chance of finding some. You either trust me to do this, to help take care of our people, or you don't. If you don't, then… well, then maybe I was better off on my own. At least then I could make my own decisions about keeping myself alive." She saw the implied threat hit home, his scowl deepening to something like hurt. _How do we manage to keep doing this to each other?_ she thought. "I'm sorry, Daryl, that was petty of me. But you know, I did pretty well while I was out there alone. You have to give me that much."

His face was pale and strained, and he held his clenched hands down at his sides, as though holding himself back from grabbing her again. "That how you want it? Then _fine_. You go on. Seein' as how you're so good at being on your _own_." He turned and stalked out of camp, headed up to the stump in the field. Carol saw him jerk his head at Sasha, who had just gone on watch, and the woman headed back toward them.

"Well, that went about as well as could be expected," Carol said dryly, as Sasha came within earshot. "Maggie, I don't see any sense in putting this off. Anything you need to do before we leave?"

Maggie shrugged, sadly. "I suppose I should tell Beth we're going - not that she seems to care one way or the other."

Carol shook her head. "She's listening, Maggie, I'm sure of it. She may not be ready to talk to us yet, but I'm sure she understands you're taking care of her. Make sure she knows she won't be alone - Daryl will be around, and Sasha."

In a few minutes they were on the road, and Maggie found a pad of paper and a pen in the glove box and started making notes about items they could use. "Medical supplies. Food, hopefully some gas, maybe another pan for cookin'? I guess we're going to have to wait 'til we get there, see what we have to pick from. How far is this place, anyway?"

Carol wasn't sure if Maggie was just curious, or if she was talking simply to avoid any extended silences, and the uncomfortable conversation required to fill them.

"Probably half an hour or so? I'm not sure of the distance. Long enough that we can talk a bit, though." _No sense in postponing the inevitable._ "Rick talked to you when he came back from the run, didn't he? I could see it in your face when I got to camp."

Maggie sighed. "He told me what had happened - what you'd said - what he'd done - I was pretty freaked out, and I wasn't thinking very clearly, I guess, what with worryin' about Glenn, and Daddy… I started thinkin', what if it had been one of them that was the first to get sick - what if you'd decided they needed to die to keep everyone else safe?" Her voice got shaky, and she fought back a sob. "I'm afraid I told him I thought he'd done the right thing. But then when you got here and I saw how you started taking care of Bob, like you always took care of everybody, it just didn't make any sense any more. I'm so sorry, Carol. I should have known better, and I feel like I should have been a better friend to you than to just accept what he told me."

_Well, that's one hurdle down,_ Carol thought, relieved. "Thank you for being honest, Maggie. Don't get me wrong - if a situation came up where I thought that putting an end to someone would save the rest, believe me, I'd have to give it some serious thought." _Like I told Andrea to do with the Governor, _she remembered. "But in this case, I didn't lift a finger against Karen and David. I have my suspicions, but… I guess it doesn't much matter now. Rick thought he had his reasons for doing what he did. I only wonder if he reconsidered whether they were the right ones. I suppose… I may never know the answer to that."

With that particular elephant banished from the room, the atmosphere in the station wagon was quite a bit lighter. They spent the rest of the drive adding possible supplies to their list, and before long they were pulling up to the development. Carol parked midway between two buildings, a total of four units, and retrieved the tire iron from the back of the station wagon. They pried open the side door to the garage of the first condo and slipped inside.

A rolling tool kit and some cinder blocks served to barricade the door behind them, and they cautiously entered the kitchen, leaving the interior door open to better hear if anything tried to force its way in. Carol nodded toward the passage into the rest of the apartment, and the two women took positions on either side of the doorway before carefully peeking around the wall that separated the kitchen from the combined dining and living room. Beyond that lay a hallway, and after checking any blind spots in the central area, Maggie led them to the farthest rooms, two bedrooms and a bath.

The master bedroom held a hospital bed and both of the condo's former tenants. Neither posed a danger to them - a pistol lay between the two bodies, and it appeared the man had delivered the fatal shot to the woman who occupied the bed before taking his own life. _Probably husband and wife_, Carol thought, _and they chose to go together._ There was something touching about the way they lay, the man's damaged head resting beside the woman's hand, and some impulse made Carol look around the room until she found a knitted afghan she could use to cover them. A framed wedding photo on the dresser showed two smiling young people standing before a church altar, and Carol tucked it between them before she turned to examine the medicines clustered on the bedside table.

Maggie stood in the doorway, watching her curiously. "Why did you do that?"

Carol looked up, not quite understanding herself what prompted the gesture. "They'd been together a long time, if that's them in the picture, and they made their choice to stay that way. It had to be hard for him, to end the life of someone you love that much. I guess it didn't seem right to leave them - like _that_ - while we go through their things."

"Wedding pictures," said Maggie, quietly. "I never thought about it at the time, but I wish…" Her eyes were hollow. "Do you think there's any chance Glenn…"

"Oh, Maggie, honey," Carol said, her throat tight with sympathy. "I just don't know. All we can do is hold out hope that our loved ones will come back to us."

"He never stopped lookin', you know? Daryl? Every place we stopped, he was watchin' for signs of you. I tried to talk to him about what Rick said you'd done, and he wouldn't hear of it. He never doubted you for a second." Maggie stepped up beside her and laid a comforting hand on Carol's arm. "I don't know what all's goin' on in his head these days, but he loves you, Carol. He's just really _terrible_ at showin' it."

In an instant, Carol exploded with laughter, her hand flying to her mouth to cover the sounds, and she crumpled into the upholstered chair that sat at an angle to the bed, unable to hold herself upright against the whoops of hilarity. When she could finally get her breath again, she gasped, "Whoo, Maggie, you've got that right. He could teach a course on the fine art of _never finding the right moment._" She sniffled a little, realizing that at some point the laughter had turned to tears, and she dabbed at her eyes with the tail of her shirt. "Damn the man, I'm not the least bit sure how he feels about me, especially right now, and he certainly doesn't make it easy for me to love _him_ sometimes."

"You'll be alright, though," Maggie said. "Give him some time to get used to havin' you back. I think he just can't quite bring himself to believe it yet."

"I wish that's all it was, Maggie," Carol said doubtfully. "I think I've done something, something else he's upset about, and he won't talk to me about it. I'm about at my wit's end with him."

She surveyed the room for a moment before saying, "Well, we're not going to sort out the mystery of Daryl Dixon right this minute, so what say we go through the rest of this place and get on with the others?"


	5. Chapter 5

They found several laundry baskets in a small alcove that held a washer and dryer, and loaded them up with blankets, pillows, and the few articles of useful clothing that looked to be the right sizes - a light jacket for Beth, who had none; some shirts and mid-weight trousers that Maggie thought Bob and perhaps Daryl could wear.

Carol was relieved to also find a cache of surgical dressings, antibiotic ointment, and two unopened bottles of hydrogen peroxide. The medications in the master bedroom included powerful narcotics for pain, and she assumed the woman in the bed had undergone recent surgery, perhaps for cancer or some other terminal condition, given the large doses it appeared she'd been prescribed. It seemed odd to be grateful for someone else's misfortune, but the drugs would speed Bob's recovery, and would be a godsend if anyone else got badly injured. Carol added those to the slouch bag she wore across her body and returned to the kitchen to help Maggie go through the cabinets.

The kitchen produced the usual assortment of canned goods, slightly more than the unit she'd gone through with Daryl, but the real surprise was in a closet near the back door. Shelf after shelf of home-canned vegetables lined the rear wall - tomatoes, green beans, peaches, pickles, an assortment of jams and jellies - the array had both of them pop-eyed in amazement. "Oh, my god," Maggie stammered. "_Look_ at this! How are we ever going to carry it all?"

Carol considered the available space in the station wagon - not just what they had now, but what would be taken up by four adults once they got on the road again. "There's just no way." she concluded in disappointment. "We're going to have to leave a goodly amount behind. Maybe we can take some now, and come back later for more?" They found a box of trash bags in a kitchen drawer and stuffed most of the contents of the baskets into them, reserving a few to cushion the jars.

Maggie looked sadly at the rows of preserves, saying, "I suppose we should leave these, but my sweet tooth is just _singin'_ to me right now."

Carol passed her one jar each of apple butter and strawberry jam. "We can call those our rewards for making this run," she said. "Seriously, though, Maggie, we get so few treats - I say we _all_ deserve to take them where we can. I can't wait to see Daryl's face - he loves apple butter."

* * *

_His face was creased in a delighted grin, making him look years younger. "Hit the jackpot on one thing from that run today, even though it was scant pickin's otherwise - found a big jar of apple butter that had fell under a shelf, got missed by whoever raided it before. God, ain't nothin' better on a slab of warm bread." He paused and chuckled under his breath, rubbing his chin. "'Course, we ain't got any kind of bread to go with, so scratch that. Bet it'd work on oatmeal, though." _

"_Guess it's your lucky day all the way around, then, Daryl," Carol teased. "One of those bags you guys brought in was cornmeal - there'll be cornbread for dinner." _

_He let out a whoop and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet and swinging her around. When he set her back down she was breathless, and for a split second he leaned toward her, and she thought for sure he was going to kiss her. Instead he stepped back abruptly and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end as if electrified, and said, "That'll be a real treat. Look forward to it." Between one breath and the next he was out the door, and she was left alone, her body humming at some frequency only her heart could hear._

* * *

_Simpler times_, Carol thought, and shook off the memory. No time for nostalgia, she reminded herself, and headed out the door with the first of the laundry baskets. Close behind her with a matching load, Maggie moved around to the back of the wagon and unexpectedly hissed at Carol. "_Walkers!_"

She followed Maggie's gaze and saw a number of shambling figures making their way up the boulevard from the far end of the development. "_Damned lousy timing_," Carol fretted, and then felt a wave of nausea course through her as more bodies appeared behind them. They shoved both baskets over the tailgate and turned to retrieve the bags of bedding they'd left inside the door. Over the roof of the Taurus, Carol was horrified to see still more walkers headed toward them from the opposite direction, closer, and blocking their exit.

"Shit. _Shit._" They were in trouble. The condo had no cellar, no place sturdy enough to hold out against the press of more than a few walkers, and there were too many to take on hand-to-hand. "Back inside." The two women turned and ran for the door, closing it quickly and moving together to shift the heavy sofa to block it. "We can't stay here, that picture window's like an open invitation," Carol said, frustrated. "We'll have to go out the back, see if we can get to one of the other units." She checked to be sure the tire iron still hung from her belt loop, and loosened her knife in its sheath. "How many rounds do you have left?"

Maggie popped the clip on her pistol. "Five. You?"

"Four." They exchanged resigned grimaces and moved to the rear entrance to scope out their escape route. "Okay," Carol said. "The nearest unit this way is the one off to the right, but I think we're better off with the one to the left - they're too close to the other and I don't want to risk catching their attention when we run. I'm going to go out the front again, make some noise, get them headed toward me. You go, and I'll follow."

"Let me go out front and draw them, Carol," Maggie said. "Sorry, but I'm younger, and faster. It only makes sense. You got the medical supplies, and the tire iron. You go first, open the place up, and I won't be long behind."

Carol had to admit she had good points. "Okay. If you can, try to get the couch back in place before you leave here - that might slow them down another minute or two." They both checked their weapons yet again and carefully pivoted the couch aside to let Maggie slip out the front. The walkers coming in from the road were uncomfortably close, and Carol nearly called it off, but Maggie closed the door between them, cutting off further conversation. Carol could hear her strident, brassy voice calling in the monsters, and thought from the metallic pounding that she must be beating on the hood of the station wagon to add to the clamor.

She turned and headed out the back, staying low to minimize her profile, cutting straight across the grass to the side door of their target unit. The spring lock surrendered to her tire iron with a muffled crack, and she plunged into the dimly-lit garage, nearly colliding with the large vehicle parked immediately inside. This appeared to be a larger unit; the garage was twice as wide as that of the unit they'd just been in, and something smaller occupied the second bay, covered by a dropcloth or tarp.

Carol couldn't take the time to look any further; once she was satisfied she was alone, she hovered beside the door, watching and listening for Maggie. Before too many more seconds had passed, the woman was safely through the door, and the two of them stood cautiously on either side, barely breathing as they watched the small herd cluster around the building they'd just left.

"As long as they don't get interested in us, we may be okay. We're going to have to hold up here, though, until they disperse." Carol rubbed her forehead, trying to relieve the tension that was building there. "Oh, boy," she sighed. "Daryl's going to have a field day with this. Lose our car, get pinned down by a herd - just about what he figured would happen. Proof I can't take care of myself as well as I'd like to think."

"You stop that right this instant, Carol." Maggie's tone would have fit right in with any of Carol's elementary school teachers. "First off, we haven't lost anything, and we aren't pinned down, just layin' low, because we're _smart_. And if you couldn't take care of yourself you wouldn't have survived this long to get here, so just quit it. We're gonna get through this just fine, and we'll march up to Mr. Big Britches with all that food and he'll have to eat his words."

"You promise, Maggie?" Carol smiled. "I swear, I don't want to make him feel bad, I just want him to accept that we're as capable as he is. I tell you, though - the thought of his face when we roll up with a car full of food, and _delicious _food at that, warms my heart more than I could have imagined."

They watched for a few more minutes, then searched the garage for the means to secure the exterior door. "Here's a length of rope, and that and this chair wedged under the handle is going to have to do it, I think," Maggie finally concluded. "I'm not happy about it, but it'll at least give us a heads-up if any of 'em get over here."

The interior of the condo was thankfully vacant. While they waited out the milling walkers, Carol and Maggie took turns scouring the place as quietly as possible, while the other patrolled the windows.

"Want something to eat while we wait, Maggie?" Carol whispered across the living room. "We've got canned salmon, and there's a tin of crackers that are still amazingly fresh."

Maggie poked her head around the corner. "Canned salmon. That's a lot like tuna, isn't it?" She had come to accept in the months back before the prison that canned fish was one of their few reliable sources of protein, but she'd never grown to like the stuff. "Ugh. Beggars, choosers, I know. Sure, if you're cookin', I could eat."

"There's a jar of peanut butter, too." Carol waved the alternative at her, and grinned at how Maggie's eyes went wide with excitement. She tossed her the jar and held out the utensils. "Choose your weapon - civilized, where you spread it on a cracker, or savage, right out of the jar by the spoonful?"

Maggie snorted quietly, "Ain't been all that long since I would have just dove in with my fingers, so I think a spoon will suit just fine."

They both settled in, Carol at the kitchen table, where she could keep an eye on the back yard, and Maggie on the arm of the couch, watching the front. Carol found herself thinking about their escape, especially if the herd took too long to wander on in search of some other prey. She definitely didn't relish the thought of being stuck there overnight - not that the danger would be that much greater after dark, but she knew that with every hour, the likelihood increased that Daryl would run out of patience waiting for them to return, and would strike out on his own to bring them back. Regardless of the humiliation built into that situation, it was likely far more dangerous for him to come into the development and risk attracting all of those walkers to him, than for them to stay right where they were and keep a low profile.

However it happened, though, they either needed to make their way back out to their car - an impractical scenario, since they couldn't even see it from where they were, to know whether it was clear enough to get to - or use one of the vehicles in the garage where they were. The car was some sort of mid-sized sport utility vehicle, maybe a Jeep, but it was what lay under the tarp that had Carol's mind turning. "Do you know how to drive a motorcycle, Maggie?"

"What? No. Why?"

"I think that's a motorcycle out there, under that tarp. I was just thinking it might be a good option for us, if we need to get clear of here in a big hurry." The more she thought of it, though, the worse the prospect sounded. Neither of them would know what they were doing on a bike, and from what she'd seen riding with Daryl, it was just as complex as, and significantly different from, driving a car. Each hand and foot seemed to be involved in executing a different task; shifting, accelerating, braking both front and back. Not something you could pick up just sitting on a non-running bike, and they couldn't afford to start it up and try it out. That was a guaranteed way of bring the herd around.

"Never mind, bad idea. Probably should at least take a look at whatever the car is, even if everything works out and we can get back to the station wagon. I'm not all that confident how long that piece of crap will hold up; who knows what kind of maintenance has been done on it over the past couple of years. Maybe we should consider trading up, if the other one looks good otherwise."

The day wore on with little change among the walkers outside, and in between long stretches of silence, Carol and Maggie talked aimlessly, telling stories about their childhoods, how they had grown up, about family members and friends now long gone. Carol learned enough about Patricia and Otis to be saddened all over again that she'd never gotten to know them better. Maggie was surprised to discover that Carol had gone to Emory University and had studied music; she had dropped out at Ed's request when they married, although she had always intended to finish her degree. Carol even found she could speak of Sophia in tones of pride and wistful love, without feeling as though the pain would flatten her. "I will always miss her, but I have so many more good memories than bad; it would dishonor her if I kept clinging to the worst moments and lost track of the bright spots." Maggie wondered if she would ever find that kind of peace; at least Carol knew what had happened to Sophia, in the end, whereas she might yet never discover whether or not Glenn was still alive.


	6. Chapter 6

Carol crossed the garage and began removing the bungee cords that kept the canvas dropcloth tied to whatever was underneath. When she was finally able to pull it away, she stood for a moment, perplexed. Not a motorcycle, exactly - it had _two _wheels in back, and the wheeled contraption she now saw tucked off to the side appeared to be some sort of matching trailer with a hitch. Maggie came up behind her and remarked, "Well, that's not somethin' you see every day - it's a trike." She moved over to the adjoining workbench and pulled a battery toward her. "Looks like they prepped it for storage, like they planned to be away for a while. Maybe these folks weren't even around when all of this hit."

"But it operates pretty much like a regular motorcycle, right? That still doesn't help us." Carol couldn't hide her disappointment.

Maggie walked around the vehicle and stopped. "Not quite. I think… it's got an automatic transmission." She turned to Carol, a small, thoughtful smile growing on her face. "Carol, I think we can do this. I helped put the farm tractor to bed for the winter, and get it ready again in the spring often enough, I think I can get the battery back on this thing. There's a good chance - oh, but fuel. Did you happen to see a can of gas around anywhere? They probably drained it before they left." It took only a few moments to locate a full gas can under the bench.

"Okay, let's think this through," Carol said, resisting the urge to celebrate. "_If_ we can get it started… we'd need to be ready to move out right away, before the sound brings them back here. I'd love to take the trailer with us, but that'd just slow us down."

"What about the garage door? No power, no automatic opener." Maggie grimaced, seeing an imminent wrench in the works.

Carol just smiled. "Well, now, there's something a sheltered suburban girl can contribute to this project after all. See that handle up there? If we pull that - not yet, it's apt to make a fair amount of noise - it releases the automatic opener, and we can pull the door up just like it didn't have one."

"Gonna have to time this pretty closely, aren't we?" Maggie said, with some anxiety.

Carol nodded. "It'll be tight, I suspect. Disable the opener, one of us starts the bike, the other opens the door... then what? We still need to get to the car, and we don't know how many walkers might still be on that side of the building. I suppose we could come back for it later if need be, but I'd prefer to hang on to the larger vehicle if we can. Not to mention all those goodies we stashed in the back."

"This is probably gonna sound crazy, but - what if I take the bike further down the road, down toward the end, and get any walkers still out there to follow me? That way, you can go back in through the other place, and out the front to the car?" Maggie sounded hesitant, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was proposing. "It's less risky than it sounds, I think - with the way the road splits around that island, I think I can get back through okay, as long as there aren't a lot more of them out there than it looks right now."

"You're right," Carol said, "it does sound crazy. But I'm not sure I have any better idea than that. First thing is, seeing if you can get that all put back together and ready to try. Maybe we should start with that, and meanwhile I'll see if there's anything else here we can use."

_Give the girl something to focus on, and she could almost be her old self again, _Carol reflected as she moved around the garage. The challenge of re-assembling the trike had put new color in Maggie's cheeks, and a sparkle in her eyes that had been absent until now. It wasn't quite healing, yet, but it was a start. Carol gave a low chuckle of satisfaction as she spotted a rack of garden tools in the back corner, and pulled out a long-handled shovel. She also grabbed a hatchet from where it hung on the wall. With as little ammunition as they had on hand, they'd need every advantage they could get if they had to fight their way through.

* * *

The sun was just starting to touch the roofs of the buildings behind them when Carol realized that it had been a while since she'd seen any movement outside. She stepped carefully to the back door and peeked out the window. At Carol's signal, Maggie stopped what she was doing and moved quietly to the door where they'd entered - all quiet on that side as well. Carol went through the rest of the condo, checking each window. When she returned, she shook her head. "There's still a few out there, but not nearly the crowd we had earlier. How's this going?"

Maggie straightened from where she'd been bent over the trike and swiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. "I think that's got it. Won't know for sure, though, until we try it."

Carol showed her the shovel, asking, "Do you think you could handle this and the bike, too? I'd feel better if you had something with you besides the gun."

Maggie eyed the tool and shook her head. "It'd take two hands. How about that?" She pointed to the back wall, and Carol followed her eyes to where a short barrel stood, holding what looked like a couple of umbrellas, and… "Isn't that a baseball bat?" Maggie strode over and picked it up, hefting it and giving it a couple of trial swings. "Girls' varsity softball, three years. I usually batted cleanup."

Carol looked at her, amused. "I'm sorry, Maggie, I don't have the slightest idea what that means."

Maggie smiled tightly. "It means I got a good chance of doing major damage to anything's head that comes within reach. And it'll be easier to manage on the bike."

They went back into the condo and made one final check of the windows, seeing only a few straggling walkers, and none in the immediate vicinity of the condo where they were hiding.

"Okay, then," Carol said, taking a deep breath. "No time like the present, I suppose. Anything else you need to do before we try this?" They looked at each other for a long moment, and Maggie shook her head and gave Carol a half-smile.

The tricky first part of the plan was going to be getting the trike out and headed in the right direction, so they worked together to roll it as close to the door as they could before attempting to start it. Carol climbed on a stepstool and put her hand on the door opener's release handle. She pulled steadily, and after a second it gave way with a muffled _klunk_. Both she and Maggie blew out a sigh of relief, and Carol jumped down, ready to open the garage door.

Maggie straddled the trike and tucked the bat under one thigh before she turned the key. The engine whirred sluggishly, and Maggie cursed softly under her breath. "C'mon, catch, you son of a bitch." Suddenly it roared to life, and Carol heaved on the door handle, struggling as the mechanism stuck momentarily in its track before it rolled upward. Maggie fumbled for a few seconds to shift the trike into reverse, but it shuddered into motion, and Carol followed it out onto the driveway, keeping the hatchet ready for anything that might come at them.

After an awkward moment or two during which Carol was sure their whole plan was going to fall to pieces, Maggie managed to get the machine turned around, and she pulled out into the street, heading slowly away from the entrance. Carol scanned the area and noted that the few walkers in sight were moving toward them, as they had anticipated. She ducked back inside the garage, pulling the door down after her. She hated not being able to keep an eye on Maggie's progress, but that wasn't part of the plan. She'd just have to trust that the other woman's instincts were sharp enough to keep her safe for now.

Carol hurriedly disengaged their makeshift barricade from the side door and poked her head out, taking one last look around. The grassy stretch between the two units was clear, and she looped the hatchet's leather thong around her wrist to keep it secure before she threw open the door and sprinted for the next building. She could hear the engine of the trike rumbling down the street, and an occasional shout from Maggie, although the tone was challenging, not panicky.

She was almost through the door before she remembered that she couldn't count on it still being clear inside, and she skidded to a halt on the back stoop, the hatchet's uncontrolled clatter against the storm door setting her teeth on edge. She eased the outer door open, and the temporary vacuum it set up caused the inside door to creak in response. She toed it open a few inches and heard a characteristic lurching shuffle approaching from inside. _More Walkers. Damn._ She had really been hoping not to have to get up close and personal with them, but it was the only way the hatchet and her knife worked. If she'd had an extra pair of hands, that shovel would have been a welcome addition to her arsenal.

Stepping back from the door, she let the hatchet drop to her wrist, and reached up to set the self-closing mechanism on the storm door to hold it fully open. She stretched out a toe again and kicked the inside door, which swung back and collided with the first of the walkers, rebounding to close almost completely. _Shit_, Carol thought, and tapped the door again with her foot, lightly. This time her half-hatched plan bore fruit. A hand clutched the edge of the door, followed by a body, wedging it open.

"C'mon, you beauties, one at a time - into the chute and over the edge." Carol planted her back leg and swung the hatchet, burying it in the head of the first walker through the door. She yanked it back and nearly lost her balance as the hatchet came free from the bone, and as she jerked herself back upright her opposite elbow caught her first target between its shoulder blades, knocking it down the steps and off the stoop. She grinned maniacally to herself, pleased with her unexpected success.

"Next?" she taunted as the second walker followed. This one turned toward her, and her hatchet sank into its throat instead of the head, and the pinioned blade nearly dragged Carol to her knees as it fell. A third body loomed just beyond the doorway, and Carol found herself fighting for breath, half from exertion and half from sheer terror. She wrenched the hatchet loose and stamped on the face of the downed walker, ignoring the fumbling hands that clawed at her legs. As the next one stumbled out the door, Carol kicked out with all of her strength, catching the side of its knee with her heavy boot and sending it crumpling off the side of the concrete steps. Nothing further came through the door, and the interior beyond was quiet.

She didn't bother to make sure the walkers on the ground were finished, just stepped inside, her senses searching for any evidence of further occupation as she closed and locked the door behind her. Her skin prickled, but nothing more came lurching out of the dimming corners of the condo. The front door stood ajar, the couch at an angle, but the only sounds Carol could hear outside were the moans of a few remaining walkers moving away from her, and the distant chug of the trike.

Carol pulled the bags of bedding they'd left by the door earlier from where they'd been wedged between the couch and the door frame, and cautiously slipped outside to the car. She pulled the keys from her pocket and slid inside the vehicle, tossing the bags into the back seat. Now she had to be patient and wait. Neither she nor Maggie had a watch, so they hadn't been able to set a time limit on this portion of the plan - they could only make their best estimates and hope their sense of time elapsing was accurate enough to allow both of them long enough to do what needed to be done.

Just a minute or two later she heard the trike racing up the street toward her, and she gratefully started the wagon. She pulled into the street and moved toward the development's entrance just as Maggie brought the trike abreast. The end of the baseball bat was gory with walker blood and brain matter, but Maggie herself seemed unharmed.

"We didn't talk about this," Maggie shouted above the roar, "but I think we should take both vehicles back. Save the gas in th' trike, if nothin' else." Her eyes were gleaming, and Carol just nodded and jerked a thumb toward the road.

"Follow me," she yelled back. "We're going to take a little detour on the way back, see if we can avoid attracting any more attention."

The two women grinned wildly at each other, exhilarated by how well they'd done for themselves and their group. Carol wondered if this was how men felt after a successful military operation, and thought that it probably accounted for the seemingly unending popularity of war games, not to mention war itself - if it always made you feel this good to take on an enemy and win, no wonder all the world's powers couldn't seem to let go of their combative urges.


	7. Chapter 7

Carol had mapped out some alternative routes from the area of the condo development in advance, just in case they ran into a situation that blocked them from the direct path back to their camp. Fearing that the small herd that had come down on them was only the beginning of something worse, she led Maggie in the opposite direction for a short distance before turning up a side road that would allow them to bypass the main highway. It would add some miles and time to their journey, but she suspected the less-traveled roads would have fewer obstacles - of any sort.

They came up over a small rise and Carol braked abruptly. Just ahead, a familiar shape hulked at the side of the road, and she felt a sick lump rise in her throat.

Behind her, Maggie had come to a stop as well, and before Carol could get her door open, the younger woman was off the trike, streaking past her on foot.

The gray prison bus stood in the muddy berm, tilted to one side, the door hanging open. Carol caught up with Maggie as she climbed the stairs, sobbing. The interior was empty - no bodies, and only a few scattered belongings. Maggie turned, her eyes haunted and full of terror, and Carol wrapped her arms around her, murmuring soothingly. "Maggie, this is good, don't you see? There's no blood, no bullet holes. It just looks like they had some kind of mechanical problem. I think the axle's broken. But they got out_._ This is _good news._"

"But where are they?" the young woman wailed. "Where's _Glenn_?"

"I just don't know, sweetheart. And I'm sorry, but we can't take the time right now to look further. The sun's going down, and we need to get back to camp. I can find this place again, though, and I promise, we'll come back and check the area. Tomorrow. I promise. If they're still nearby, we'll find them." Carol could have bitten her tongue for that vow, but she knew that nothing was going to keep Maggie from returning - by herself, if no one else agreed to it, and she decided right then that, no matter what, the other woman wouldn't be out there looking on her own.

Maggie nodded her understanding, reading Carol's offer of support in her eyes. As they returned to their vehicles, Maggie ducked in the passenger side of the wagon and retrieved the pad of paper. "What direction is the camp from here?"

Carol grasped in an instant what she intended. "Give it here for a minute, I'll draw a map." She sketched out a quick diagram with route numbers and, after a moment's thought, added the letter M, retracing it several times for emphasis. Reaching back in the glove box for the plastic wallet that held the car's registration paperwork, she tucked the note inside and went to place it on the bus's dash, where it would be visible to anyone who might return to the vehicle. Carol considered for a moment whether that was smart, since they might be inviting unwelcome visitors, but decided that a stranger coming upon the bus and seeing it as a potential source of supplies was unlikely to identify the folder as something out of place or significant. Meanwhile, Maggie had left a message in the dust on the side of the bus: "GLENN - WE WILL FIND YOU." She stood for a long moment, looking at the words, and Carol squeezed her arm reassuringly before they returned to their vehicles and headed off into the twilight.

Carol got them back to the main road without any further problems, and she estimated they were still a few miles off when she caught sight of a single oncoming headlight. She breathed an unwilling sigh of relief, and had a simultaneous flash of irritation. _Here comes the cavalry, _she thought ruefully. Despite their success, she wasn't eager to undergo Daryl's inevitable interrogation.

He slowed the bike to a crawl as he drew even with the two vehicles, and circled around to come up alongside the trike, eyeballing it and shaking his head. "You both okay?" he shouted to Maggie. She nodded and gave him a thumbs-up in response, the combined noise of the two engines making conversation almost impossible. He accelerated past the wagon again, choosing to lead the convoy, and Carol let herself relax slightly, knowing he'd be spotting ahead for any trouble.

Daryl was off his bike and walking back to meet them by the time Carol pulled into camp, the trike close behind. He looked somehow less tense than when she'd left him, which she found rather unsettling. She'd expected him to be wired tight as a drum and ready to pounce the moment they returned. Instead, he was giving the trike a leisurely inspection. She had to admit it was quite an eyeful - once they'd gotten it out into the sunlight, its appearance had struck her as particularly amusing. Hot pink and white, with ornamental scrolls on the fenders - it had obviously been someone's treasured retirement-years toy, and fortunately for them, because the care with which it had been treated had quite likely saved their lives.

Sasha came in from the field to greet them with hugs, and Bob gave a little wave, looking a good deal less wan than he'd been the last time Carol had seen him. They'd rigged a sling for his injured arm out of a long-sleeved shirt tied around his neck, and Carol could see that his bandage was soaked through. She'd need to attend to that first thing. The more surprising sight was Beth, seated by the fire. It was the first time since Carol had arrived that she'd seen the girl outside of the tent, and she caught Sasha's eye, tilting an inquiring glance her way. Sasha shrugged and mouthed, _we'll talk._

Maggie had enlisted Daryl's assistance in unloading the back of the wagon, and the two of them set the baskets of food on the ground between their log seats. "We struck gold," Maggie crowed as she unpacked their finds. "This ain't even a quarter of what was there, either - we got interrupted and had to cut out before we could haul any more."

"Interrupted how?" Daryl asked, his question directed to Carol.

"No big deal," she said, casually. "There were some walkers, and we ended up having to hide out in a different unit for a while. We got the medical supplies we need, which was the important thing."

"That where you picked up the trike?" Daryl inquired. Carol could see that he was itching to grill them about the run.

"Ain't it sweet?" Maggie said enthusiastically. "We had to put it together before we could get out of there, and I ran it down the road to distract the rest of the walkers so Carol could get back to the car." Carol closed her eyes in dismay. Not how she would have preferred to report on their adventure, but it was out now, and there was nothing she could do to call back the words.

Daryl moved over to the fire and took a seat next to Carol. "Just how many walkers we talkin' about, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know," Carol said carefully. "Not too many. We mostly waited until they'd passed by before we made our move. Doesn't matter in any case - we got what we needed and made it back safely, that's what counts." She could feel the heat of Daryl's glare on her as she avoided giving him a detailed accounting.

"_How many?_" Daryl growled, as though he'd reached the limit of his patience.

Maggie gave Carol a wry smile from across the fire and said, "Maybe a couple dozen, maybe a little more? We laid low, though, didn't have a problem with more than a few. Came up with a couple new toys in the process." She hefted the baseball bat that leaned by her seat. "Carol got herself a hatchet, too."

Daryl cursed under his breath. "Just a couple dozen or so, huh? Jesus, you're fuckin' lucky."

"No," Carol said, her voice rising. "Not lucky - smart. We did what anyone else would have done, what _you_ would have done. We dealt with the problem, used our heads, and we _got through it._ And furthermore, we came back with some good scores. _This,_ for one thing." She pulled a jar of apple butter from where she'd stashed it in her bag and set it on the log between them. "And _you're welcome_, by the way."

She stood and moved over to where Bob sat next to Beth. "Bethie, sweetie, would you trade me places, please?" she said softly. The young woman didn't look at her, but after a moment she rose and circled around to sit beside Daryl, and Carol took her place. "I want to look at that shoulder before we lose the rest of the light." She dumped the contents of her bag on the grass and dug out the gauze and antibiotic ointment, pointedly avoiding looking in Daryl's direction. After she cleaned the surrounding area with some of the peroxide, Bob's wound appeared to be starting to heal, and she redressed it, applying some of the ointment beneath the bandages. While she worked, Daryl got up and stalked out of the firelight. Carol watched him from beneath her lashes as he headed to the tent they shared, and thought that he probably wasn't done expressing his displeasure with her about the day's run. That would just have to wait until later, though - she had dinner to fix.

"She was talking earlier." Bob's voice interrupted her thoughts, and Carol turned toward him, curious. "Beth, I mean. Just for a little bit, and I didn't get the whole thing, but - she said something to Daryl."

He had both Maggie's and Carol's full attention now, and Maggie moved closer so they could keep their voices low. "What did she say?" Maggie asked, anxiously.

"Earlier, after you left, he came up to the tent, told me there was food if I wanted some. He stayed back with her, and after awhile she came down with him and ate what he gave her. He was talking to her, just about the food, nothing much in particular, and I wasn't really paying any attention until I heard her say something back. And then she said, 'You have to forgive her for staying alive without you, Daryl,' like she was picking up in the middle of a conversation they'd been having all along." Bob shrugged uneasily, looking up at the two of them. "I didn't know what the hell that was about, and I felt like I was the odd man out, so I left them there and went back to the tent to rest. I could hear both of them for a while, and then Beth came in the tent and laid down. I don't know what else they said, and she hasn't uttered a peep since then. But I thought you'd want to know."

Maggie had moved around the fire and taken a seat on the ground next to where Beth still sat, staring silently into the fire. "Is that right, Bethie? You talked to Daryl?" She took her sister's unresisting hand and pressed it to her cheek. "That's good, honey. If he makes you feel safe, you go right ahead and tell him whatever you need to say." A tear dripped down her face and landed on their joined hands. She looked up at Carol with a smile, her eyes glistening wetly.

Carol's mind was in a whirl. She knew Daryl and Beth had spent a few days by themselves before they had found the others, and she had seen him make several attempts to reach the girl since she'd joined them. Was it possible Beth had talked to him before this? And if that was the case, why had he not told all of them, or at least Maggie? As much as she'd prefer to avoid getting into another strained conversation with him, she needed to know how Beth had gotten the idea that Daryl was holding some resentment toward her, and how much truth lay behind it.

She got up and dusted herself off. "Maggie, could you maybe see about opening up some of those jars so we can get some food into us? I need to go talk to Daryl for a minute."


	8. Chapter 8

The flap of their tent hung open, and Carol could see Daryl sitting crosslegged inside, sharpening some new bolts. She crouched outside and said quietly, "Okay if I come in?"

He dipped his head in assent and shifted back to give her room to enter. As she crawled inside, she looked up and caught him watching her. She moved over to the side and sat, mirroring his position.

Before she could open her mouth, Daryl pre-empted her by saying, "Was worried about you today while you were gone. Guess I coulda said that before. Don't seem I needed to be, though - you did good."

Carol let herself relax a little, hearing the apology in his voice, and a hint of pride. "I knew you'd be worried, Daryl, and I'm sorry it took us so long to get back. And you weren't entirely wrong to be concerned - it was harder than I'd expected it to be, and we _were_ lucky to have gotten out of there as easily as we did."

"You just say I was right? Hell, we should bust out the champagne." Daryl's eyes glinted with wry humor.

"I said you weren't _wrong_, that's not the same thing." Somehow a little of their old camaraderie was back, and Carol wondered when and how that had changed. She only hoped that she could navigate the rest of their conversation without causing him to pull away again.

"I wanted to talk to you about a couple of things, Daryl. First off, you need to know that we found the prison bus today."

Daryl's entire body jerked in reaction, and he stared at her incredulously. "And you're just thinkin' to mention it now? Jesus Christ, Carol, where'd you leave 'em?"

Carol shook her head grimly. "Keep your voice down, please. We found the _bus_, empty, about halfway between here and the condos, on one of the back roads, but not a soul around. Looked like they might have broken an axle, not that I'm any kind of expert, but something to do with the front suspension. I don't think they met with any trouble, not then. There wasn't anything we could see to tell us which way they went - if it hasn't rained since they left it there, though, you might still be able to track them. I didn't want to say anything in front of Beth, and I'm sure Maggie felt the same - it was such a surprise to see her sitting out there, I think we were both afraid of upsetting her again."

Daryl put his face in his hands and rubbed his forehead irritably. "Yeah, guess that was a good call. Shit, we're gonna want to get out there first thing tomorrow, though, see what we can find out. If they been that close all along..." His voice fell off as he chewed guiltily over the thought.

"Tomorrow, Daryl," Carol said. "Nothing more we can do about it tonight. I promised Maggie we'd go back and look, and I hoped you'd see things the same way, so I don't have to be the only one going with her."

He scowled at her. "Like I'd just ignore somethin' like that? Those are our people, 'course I'm gonna do whatever I can to bring 'em back."

She sighed and said, "I didn't think you wouldn't, Daryl, but you've had a lot on your plate, and I couldn't speak for you."

He grumbled in some kind of agreement and lapsed into silence again, his thoughts obviously turning over the fate of the bus's occupants as he worked on his pile of bolts.

Carol leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, watching him as he worked. "Bob says that you and Beth talked today. How did that come about, if you don't mind me asking?"

He kept his eyes on the arrow in his hands. "Wasn't so much we talked, as I talked and she listened. Been doin' that from time to time. Figured it couldn't hurt to treat her like she was normal."

Carol waited for him to take it further, but she had to admit he'd answered the question she'd asked. "But she said something to you. Something about forgiving… me?"

He shifted uneasily, and after a few moments his eyes came up to meet hers. "Somethin' like that."

She studied him, seeing his hesitation. "Daryl, if you've got things to say to me, I wish you'd come out with it. I can't keep playing Twenty Questions with you, hoping to drag it out of you."

He inspected the completed arrow closely before setting it aside with the others he'd finished, and rolled his shoulders as if to relieve the tightness there. "Girl's pretty observant, I'll give her that. Those few days while we were on our own, she asked me about you. Wanted to know where you'd got to, before the prison went down. I didn't know what to tell her." He closed his mouth tightly and looked at Carol, his face tense. "Never did say what Rick told me, just that you were out there somewhere, and I needed to find you."

"Okay," Carol said, "I get that. So how did things go from there to you forgiving me?"

"_Shit_," Daryl said softly, and fell back to sprawl on his bedroll, slamming his fist to the ground in frustration. "_I don't know._ At first all we could do was get the fuck away from the prison, try to stay alive. Couldn't get distracted by anything else. Then once we were clear, only thing to do to pass the time was think about Beth's fuckin' questions, and it started to piss me off." He lay there silently for a time while Carol waited him out, knowing he would get around to the heart of the matter in his own way.

When he spoke again, his voice was subdued. "You shoulda come to me. Guess you didn't trust me to have your back, and you got left out there to fend for yourself 'cause I didn't have any way of knowin' what was goin' down and tryin' to stop it." He sat up abruptly and glared at her, his blue eyes hot and accusing. "You got _any_ idea how that made me feel?"

_Not until now, _she thought, feeling the acid swirl of bile in the back of her throat. "Tell me, Daryl. If we're going to get past this, I need to hear it, and I think you need to say it."

"You wanna hear it? How 'bout we start with 'fuckin' helpless'? That real enough for you?" he sneered. The sides of the tent suddenly felt oppressively close, and Carol shivered. Now that the floodgates on Daryl's mouth had been opened, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what was waiting for her.

"Never meant to be wanderin' around with a bunch of people who keep lookin' to me like I know what the fuck to do. Rick always called the shots, not me, and even when he was off his head there was Hershel, and _you_, and Glenn... And then one day I'm riding along lookin' for meds for Bob, and I see this car sittin' in a driveway, like somebody just come home, and it struck me, like, no way that's Carol, but I go back anyway, 'cause maybe it could be, and what if you're holed up in there, scared and alone and hungry…" He shook his head angrily, and Carol saw his jaw clench around whatever came next.

"But I _was_ scared and alone, Daryl, and I was never so glad to see anyone in my life." Carol was mystified by his apparent fury.

"Yeah, maybe that's right," Daryl rasped, "but that ain't how it looked to me. You come poppin' up behind that car like a jack-in-the-box, lookin' like - like you were just _fine_ on your own, not needin' a thing from me. And for a minute there I thought maybe you were better off without me, 'cause I got nothin' to offer you but more pain and hard times. I ain't nothin' but a useless hillbilly piece of shit, playin' at leadin' these people. Made me think I shoulda just kept ridin', not gone back to look for you."

_Oh, my sweet man, it was never supposed to be yours, to carry all this weight. _ Carol felt hot tears cascading down her cheeks. "How could you think I didn't need you, Daryl?" she asked, her voice breaking right along with her heart. She hadn't known it was possible for it to shatter into so many pieces. "I will _always_ need you. Not just to keep me safe, but because…" She stuttered to a stop, and a voice in her head said, _now? is it now?_ "You don't have to do this alone, not any more. I go wherever you go, because you're a part of me, and I'm not whole without you."

She reached across the small space between them and laid her hand on his thigh, and after a moment his hand came up to cover it, squeezing it so tightly she almost flinched. His face held so much misery, the responsibility he had shouldered for the safety of everyone in camp hanging over him like a storm cloud.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Daryl, but I don't think it's me you need to be forgiving. I think you need to give yourself some of the credit you deserve for having done as well as you have by these people, and by me. You may not think you're a good leader, but I do. You need to forgive _yourself_ for not being perfect."

He shook his head and said, "Rick woulda…"

Carol stopped him, pressing his hand. "Rick isn't here. You are, and you've done a fine job. Now you just need to learn to lean a little more on the rest of us. We're all capable of doing _something_, even Beth. Let us help you carry the load. Okay?"

She listened for a moment to the noises outside, and said, "Speaking of which, I think it's time to go find out what's for dinner." She got to her knees and started to rise, but he kept hold of her hand. "What?" she asked.

"You remembered 'bout the apple butter," he said quietly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Daryl," she said, and leaned over to kiss his forehead before crawling out of the tent.


End file.
